


The Prick With the Glass

by Silverskye13



Series: The Stairs to the Core (Grillster Stories) [3]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Bar Room Brawl, Man drunk people can be a real pain in the neck, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Non-Graphic Violence, Platonic Cuddling, Protective Gaster, Protectiveness, ba-dum-tss!, i guess?, they fall asleep on the couch at the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-25
Updated: 2016-11-25
Packaged: 2018-09-02 02:40:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8648575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silverskye13/pseuds/Silverskye13
Summary: I was given the prompt question(s):In working the bar, has Grillby ever dealt with drunk customers before? And what kind of drunks does he usually get? Mad ones? Sad ones? How does Grillby take this? Does he ever tell Gaster stories about his job? Has anyone ever thrown a glass of something at Grillby? How does Gaster react?And let me tell you what, I leaped on that idea SO HARD. I'd been wanting to write a Gaster-coming-to-Grillby's-rescue fic SO BADLY and this was PERFECT.





	

Gaster didn’t get angry. He was just a bit too lackadaisical for that sort of thing. He got aggravated sometimes sure. When a machine didn’t run the way he wanted it to. Whenever he couldn’t figure out some mathematical puzzle or other intellectual riddle that sometimes popped up while he was working. He especially got annoyed when deadlines crunched in on him, and he found himself racing to finish whatever project he was working on. But he didn’t get rightly angry. He just tended to shrug and smile and huff a sigh, resetting his mental state before anything could push him over the edge. Grillby was sure the skeleton tolerated a lot at his job that would have any other monster pulling out their hair. It was probably for the best that Gaster had the constitution he had, that his energy was focused more on solving the problem than getting upset about it. It was something Grillby admired in his friend.

Grillby was pretty patient as well, honestly. He got emotional sometimes, but most of the petty annoyances he ran into with his job fell short of anything that would rile him. Which was also good. He was intimidating enough just because he was made of fire - and because he didn’t like to speak. None of the monsters needed to add fear of his temper to the list of things they might feel when the bartender walked around the room. Really Grillby prided himself on the friendly atmosphere of his bar! He was proud to know that so many monsters came here for solace, to escape their problems for a few minutes - or a few days, as the case sometimes arose. But often times even with the most distressed patrons to walk in, Grillby could offer quiet advice that would get them back on their feet again.

The only real trouble that came from owning a bar was when monsters got drunk. Not tipsy. Not even just-a-few-too-many-to-be-wise, drunk. These monsters Grillby dealt with easily. No it was the emotional, should’ve-been-cut-off-half-an-hour-ago drunks that made Grillby’s job a little harder than it should be sometimes. Normally those predicaments were avoided. He could gauge his regulars fairly well, and knew enough about most other types of monsters to know when they should stop even if they weren’t willing to stop themselves.

But… there was always one or two that slipped through the cracks.

One of them was here tonight, and Grillby was already growing weary of them. They were a loud, obnoxious sort of drunk. They shouted, flailed their arms, and laughed too loudly. Sometimes their outbursts made other monsters cringe. Some monsters joined in. Some edged a little lower in their seats and waited for the snarling, mess of a drunk to be kicked out - something Grillby didn’t _like_ to do, but _had done_ once or twice. Something he’d rather not do with this… erm… gentleman… if he could afford not to.

The problem with this particular customer was he was on the Guard. And Grillby only knew this because he’d been bragging about it for most of the night. _Hendrick_ , of the Guard! Hadn’t you heard his name before? Well you must be living under a rock then! Oh, _and_ he was from the Capital. Had he mentioned that yet? How the food up there was _so much better_ than the trash back here in Snowdin. Ugh. Grillby lost track of how many times he’d rolled his eyes. Really none of this was anything that impressed Grillby, _not in the slightest_ , but the _Guard_ part, _that_ was a bit worrying. Members of the Guard were messy drunks - he’d had plenty in to figure that out! They were entitled, they were pushy, and they were _loud_. And while most of them weren’t overwhelmingly violent, they _did_ have a higher tendency to get into fights.

Of course, for every one of this particular guard’s abrasive comments, Gaster was offering a joke to replace it. Keeping Grillby rooted and sensible.

“Bet they’re only here cuz nobody in the Capital _wants_ their service,” the skeleton had chuckled once - loud enough that some of the nearby patrons could hear it and laugh. Which of course, got a rise out of the drunken gentleman sitting across the room.

“Wazzat? What are _you_ laughing at? That’s right, I’m with _the Guard_. You don’t laugh ‘till _I_ do ya fuck’n -- urghff…” Hendrick collapsed into drunken babbling.

Gaster shrugged, flashing a lazy smile and signing at Grillby, _some guard, huh?_

Grillby had only flickered a smile and shook his head, and then sprang into action when he was called across the room to refill someone’s drink. Of course, the young guard asked for a refill as well - to which Grillby promptly put a glass of water in front of his nose. Grillby didn’t say a word, but _did_ manage to shoot a forceful glare in the guard’s direction. A very clear sign to anyone with enough sense to pay attention; _you’re being cut off_.

“Aw, _come on_ ,” Hendrick whined at first, “Don’t be a buzzkill!”

Grillby shrugged and walked away.

“Hey, I’m _talking to you_ bartender!” all the whining was gone, replaced with bellowing indignance, “I as’ed for a _drink_.”

Grillby sighed, turned back to face the unruly monster and spoke quietly past a breath of smoke, “And I gave you one.”

“Hardy-har, smartass,” came the angry reply, though it was hard to take the man seriously when his every word was slurring together, “Something with _alcohol_. Tha’s what I _paid_ you for!”

Grillby cleared his throat uncomfortably, but didn’t back down an inch, “And I gave you what you paid for. Now I’d advise you take it easy and sober up. Or _leave_. That is of course, your decision.”

That was when Hendrick stood, and Grillby suddenly had to tilt his head back to look up at him. Which was unfortunate - Grillby was _much_ more intimidating when he was taller than whatever rowdy patron he was speaking to. The bar was mostly silent now, Grillby became _very_ aware of that. The magic in the air was a strange mix of apprehension and intrigue - overshadowed by the _anger_ resonating off of Hendrick. Snowdin was a sleepy little place. This was probably the most exciting thing some of these monsters had seen in weeks - maybe even since the last time Grillby had been forced to remove someone from his bar.

But Grillby wasn’t intimidated by this upstart guard. He was a _fire_ monster after all. There wasn’t much in this world that gave the elemental trouble.

“Or perhaps you’d prefer I escort you off my property _now?_ ” Grillby asked coldly, his voice raising just slightly, his flame flickering warmer and brighter as he peered bitterly up at Hendrick past his glasses. He was _not_ going to be bullied in his own bar, _that_ was for sure! And for a few seconds it looked like Grillby had actually won the little contest of wills. Hendrick deflated a bit - though he was still _scowling_ \- and turned as if to settle back in his seat. And Grillby moved to get back to the rest of his customers before they all got too nervous and left.

That is, until Hendrick chucked his glass hard enough to break it on Grillby’s neck and shoulder. The elemental _screeched_ as the water splattered across him, biting and stinging and threatening to put out his flame. Grillby staggered and then stumbled to his knees, sputtering painfully and breathlessly, clutching at the places where his flame had cooled. The bar was startled by the tell-tale _pings!_ as two souls entered a fight - and most everyone was surprised when it wasn’t the bartender’s soul glowing bright in his chest to answer whatever assault Hendrick was going to make.

No, it was _Gaster’s_. And as soon as Hendrick locked his sloppy, puzzled gaze on the skeleton monster his nose was shoved into the ground, his whole body encompassed in blue. Then he was yanked across the floor and brought to a halted heap at Gaster’s feet. The skeleton didn’t even have to leave his barstool.

“ _Congratulations_ there, friend-o!” Gaster piped cheerfully, his teeth clenched in a dangerous sort of grin, “You’ve successfully gotten under my skin, and that’s _really saying something!_ ”

To his credit, Hendrick _tried_ to struggle to his feet. _Tried_ to spit back some nasty comeback. But before he could move an inch Gaster was shoving him across the room again and into the wall by the door. There he finally dropped his blue magic, only to spear the monster through the shoulder with a pair of glittering blue bone attacks. Of course, Hendrick was a bit too drunk to realize what blue meant, and had several HP snapped away when he tried - and failed - to get to his feet.

The guard let out a fearsome howl, “You can’t do this to me! I’m a member of the fuck’n _Royal Guard!_ This is assault! Wha’s’yer name! I’m gonna fuck’n -!”

Whatever the rest of his sentence was, it stopped abruptly when Gaster started talking.

“Oh yes! How rude of me for not introducing myself,” Gaster hummed, finally jumping down off his barstool. He offered the enraged monster a grand mockery of a bow.

“W. D. Gaster, _Royal Scientist!_ At your service!” he said pleasantly, and piped a tense and snarling laugh when the guard’s face melted into a look of horror, “Oh yes, I _do_ outrank you a bit. Granted, the Royal Guard isn’t _really_ my field of expertise. But I have quite a few friends in that office. So uhm… tell me again, what was it exactly you were going to do to me?”

Hendrick blinked at Gaster, mouth slightly agape, all of his previous anger and grandeur stolen away in the space of three sentences. Of course, he had no reply, especially while he was caught up in Gaster’s spiteful, devilish grin.

Gaster swept his gaze across the room, giving an incredulous laugh at the monsters watching him, “Well don’t just _stare_ at me! Someone get the guard so we can get this moron _out of here?!”_

A handful of monsters snapped into motion, all racing to get out the door before something else exciting happened - and possibly before Gaster got even _angrier_ and decided to do something about this mess himself. Anyone else left in the bar hurriedly averted their attention when the skeleton looked at them, pretending they hadn’t seen anything, and hadn’t complacently watched while everything had happened. Then Gaster was at Grillby’s side, helping the elemental stand and walking him over to a seat.

He wasn’t much help though. Grillby could feel the skeleton shaking with every step.

“You okay?” Grillby asked quietly.

“Am _I_ okay?!” Gaster mimicked with an incredulous, shivering laugh, his voice giving a tense shudder, “I should be asking _you_ that!”

Grillby managed a quiet chuckle, “It was one glass of water, Gaster. Hardly worth all the fuss.”

“Hardly worth all the fuss, _hah!_ ” Gaster spat, and then added more severely, “Just sit down and let me _check your stats_.”

Grillby did as he was told, sitting still on one of the stools by the bar counter while Gaster checked through his stats. There weren’t _too many_ hit points out of place - though the nasty patch of cooled core on Grillby’s shoulder and the side of his neck still stung. Grillby caught a few monsters shooting curious glances in his direction, looking at the strange, rock-like texture his body took on when the flames were extinguished. He doubted any of them had ever seen anything like it before. He… tried not to be overly self-conscious about it.

“So you’re really that important, huh?” Grillby said in a low voice, flickering a tired smirk, and the skeleton shot him a questioning look, “Throwing out your title scared him shitless.”

Gaster rolled his eyes and let out a tense, strangled sort of whistling sound past his teeth, “It’s uh… not that big ‘a deal.”

“Welcome to Grillbz, favorite choice of The Royal Scientist!” Grillby hummed with an over-exaggerated wistfulness, “Think it’ll get me more customers?”

“Don’t be stupid,” Gaster scoffed, lightening up the smallest bit, “You’d just get more guards and… maybe some of my interns in here.”

Gaster heaved out a loud sigh, finally content with how Grillby was faring, and slid himself up onto a stool beside Grillby’s. The elemental could still hear the quiet rattle as Gaster shivered.

“You _sure_ you’re okay over there, old man?” Grillby said with a teasing, quiet laugh, “A bit more used to science-ing than fighting these days, aren’t you?”

Gaster let out a sharp breath that could’ve been a laugh if he tried hard enough. He flashed Grillby a forced grin, “That scared me half to death.”

Gaster rubbed his face tiredly, as if that could somehow comfort whatever images were running through his head. His voice dropped to barely a whisper - it sounded like he’d aged eons over the span of a handful of seconds, “Took me back a few years I guess. To all that… wartime bullshit I keep forgetting I haven’t gotten over yet. Coming to your rescue when water was around sorta became a reflex. Guess I… haven’t really grown out of that.”

Grillby flickered a wan smile, exuding what he hoped was a comforting warmth, “Well… nobody’s trying to kill me now. Just making a fuss over a drink.”

Gaster flashed a glare in the guard’s direction, who was finally being collected by one of their ranking officers. The monster who arrested them nodded to Gaster, who waved a hand back. Apparently they knew each other - or at the very least had passed each other once or twice at the Labs or in Asgore’s Castle.

Gaster then glanced back at Grillby, “You should close early.”

“You’re kidding.”

Gaster’s glance turned into something a lot closer to a tired glare, “You just got assaulted, Grillby. You should rest and heal up.”

“I mean it… stings a little…” Grillby shrugged - and then winced at the movement, “But it’s not something to make a big deal over.”

Gaster narrowed his eye sockets at Grillby, “I’m not above dragging you out of this bar with blue.”

Grillby sighed out a soft, crackling laugh and shook his head. He already got the feeling that he could argue all he wanted and it wouldn’t get anywhere. Gaster was insistent, and worried, and a bit too stubborn about _this worry in particular_ to let Grillby brush it off. And honestly, the sting in Grillby’s shoulder was already becoming wearying. It would be a chore to finish the rest of the night with it.

“Alright,” Grillby said finally, “I’ll close down.”

And he did. It took a bit of prompting of the more intoxicated patrons, and a little bit of insisting with the others, before they all decided to scatter. They buzzed gossip back and forth to each other even as they left, already spinning and exaggerating the short little standoff in the bar. It was a sleepy, boring town. They were going to tell pass this story around until it because just and sleepy and just as boring. Grillby just hoped not too much trouble came out of it.

Gaster insisted on helping clean the bar, and then insisted again on walking Grillby home. He didn’t really stop shivering completely until the two of them were sat on Grillby’s couch, watching reruns of some moldsmal’s coming-of-age drama that normally made them both laugh, but now just kept them pinned in silence. Grillby didn’t mean to, but he dropped off to sleep there before Gaster left. He curled up on the couch, head pillowed in his arms as he sprawled across the couch’s armrest, flickering dull oranges and reds in his sleep.

Gaster watched him, pensive, fidgeting with his knucklebones and trying not to think about very stupid, trivial memories that the impulsive drunk from the bar had managed to drag up. But no matter how hard he stared at the tv, the colors always seemed to mesh together into a replay of shattering glass. The background voices turned into the hiss of water vaporizing to steam, and the strangled-up shout that Gaster could recognize from a memory away. The more he tried _not_ to think about it, the more he seemed to focus on it. And the more he replayed the split-second scene over and over again, the farther back it shoved him into his memory.

The growling monster turned into the chants of mages. The glance of light reflecting across the glass turned into the glaring luminescence of a human’s staff. It wasn’t just a glass of water. It was spears of ice. It was jets of liquid and vapor with every ounce of killing intent that could be mustered _poured_ into them. It was Gaster’s soul lurching in his ribcage when he didn’t move fast enough, and Grillby was hit, and the elemental was screaming past the only thing in the world that could _possibly_ hurt him.

Gaster shook his head, trying to scatter the memories and thoughts away.

Honestly, the pain-in-the-ass of a guard was lucky. Gaster’s first, knee-jerk reflex of an action had been to summon one of his blasters and reduce the monster to dust. Not out of any hate for the monster himself really, but simply because _back then_ , that reaction would’ve meant he and Grillby would’ve made it out of the fight alive. But Gaster had been so caught off guard by the whole incident… it had given him just that one second longer to decide _no_ , he couldn’t just _kill someone_ over a _thrown drink!_

Gaster shuddered. He’d thought he was past this. He’d thought he’d left all the insanity from the war behind.

Now he was wondering if he should even go to sleep tonight - wondering if it was worth being woken up by a nightmare or a flashback, or if he would just sleep dreamlessly like he did normally. He leaned back against the couch and closed his eyes.

 _Everything’s fine_ , he thought to himself, trying to ease the pent-up tension from his body with every breath, _Grillby is fine. You are fine. Everything’s fine. Try not to worry about it._

_In the morning you’ll wake up and you’ll be in the Underground._

_The war is over._

_Everything’s fine._

_Try not to think about it anymore._

He woke up the next morning to the smell of Grillby cooking breakfast in the kitchen, and humming softly some tune that the radio was playing. Everything was fine. Gaster was still in the Underground. Grillby was safe. The war was over. But there was a bitter taste in his mouth that was too much like dust for him to be truly comfortable.

Gaster sighed and offered himself a pathetic, rueful smile. This was going to take a bit to get over, it would seem.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry the Casting Rain chapter wasn't ready for this week! But I did manage to put the finishing polish on this as an apology :3
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy! This was fun to write!


End file.
